Head Like a Hole

by Andrew Van Wey

That’s the power of memory, he supposes. Every one is unique, carved into neurons and strengthened through emotions and senses. It’s why so many adults never move past the music of their youth.

I like to think we’re the sum total of all those who helped us or hurt us or simply shared our life for a moment.

Those who don’t hear the music think the dancers are mad.

“I can hear them whispering to me. I can see time through their eyes. And sometimes I can reply, like the wind rolling over the hills and shaking the leaves.”

“New money shouts, but old money whispers.”